


In a Kitchen

by prizewinningfruitcake



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Baking, F/F, Fluff, baking fluff!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 02:25:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16547030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prizewinningfruitcake/pseuds/prizewinningfruitcake
Summary: Jane likes to bake - almost as much as she likes making Cassandra flustered.





	In a Kitchen

**Author's Note:**

> It's just a lil thing I posted on Tumblr, but it's been so long since I updated Beacon & Shield I wanted to do _something_ with Cass and Jane. 
> 
>  
> 
> ((I'll update it soon, I swear))

“You have to roll it thin. Thin-thin, so thin you’ll think it’s too thin.” Jane sweeps hands over the rolling pin without touching it, indicating the motion. They’ve abandoned their mead in the main tavern, commandeered the kitchen.

Cassandra has never baked anything in her life. She can make do, of course; she does not rely on others to feed her, but the chemistry and manipulation of dough looks to require delicacy, finesse. Not her strong suit.

Jane demonstrates and then leaves space for her at the counter, a good teacher. An exceedingly enthusiastic teacher, a one-act play for every step of the process, stories and dances.

“I fear I will beat it to death,” Cassandra not-quite-jokes as she steps up.

“Don’t worry about that,” Jane says. “Restraint is only for the mixing. It needs a firm hand once it’s done.” She forms a fist, and brings it down onto her palm. Unconvincing. To look at her, one could barely picture her snapping a twig.

Cassandra presses the mass of dough as instructed, denting it in the middle. Jane nods approval. She smiles and tucks a chunk of hair behind her ear, flushed from the mead, winter sunlight through the window making her head glow. Cassandra turns back to her task, but slowly.

It is surprisingly satisfying, flattening and rolling the dough, once she’s adjusted to the motion. A matter of smoothing over lumps, of consistent and deliberate action.

The pin sticks and Jane’s hand hovers clenched. “Don’t mind me, I’m the flour fairy,” she whispers as she sprinkles, a dusting to firm it up.

Cassandra smirks and shakes her head and says, “You are ridiculous.”

“First time I’ve heard you complain,” Jane brushes off her hands and picks up a mixing bowl. Pinning it between the counter and her hip, she sets to work pitting cherries. She smiles, radiant, so pleased with herself for charming Cassandra into this. “Just think how warm it will be in there once we get the fire going,” she’d said, and she wasn’t wrong.

“I enjoy it,” Cassandra says, “just so long as I can keep up.”

A drawer slamming open, Jane brandishes a wooden spoon. “Why keep up with me when you can just as easily throw me over your shoulder and go wherever you want?”

Cassandra laughs, clears her throat. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

The flirting. She still isn’t used to it. She’s clumsy, lumbering, a bear in a fencing match. Jane doesn’t seem to mind. She builds a mass of cherries, measures and pours sugar into her bowl, uncaps a little bottle and adds a dash. Cassandra rolls and rolls, more muscle than she expected to use, and rolls some more.

“When I was a girl, round dinner time I would always hover about in the kitchen and pester the cooks with questions until one of them sat me down and shared her secrets,” Jane says as she fusses with the oven. “I was always just enchanted by their little cakes and things. Of course they always frosted and decorated them so beautifully - I’ve never learned to do that, I’m afraid.”

She is being modest, Cassandra is certain. Jane seems to master every interest she takes. “I believe my uncle would have had our heads for meddling with the kitchen staff,” Cassandra says. “Even now, it feels…transgressive to be in here. I half expect someone to shoo us out with a broom.”

Jane crosses back to the counter, soft fingertips on the small of her back as she peers over her shoulder. “You’re breaking all sorts of rules these days,” she teases.

Cassandra snorts in response, and Jane pinches off a piece of dough, examining it carefully. “That’s perfect. Now you’ll need to cut it into pieces about this size.” She forms a rectangle with her fingers to estimate.

They work together now, Cassandra sectioning and cutting little squares while Jane heaps spoonfuls and folds and pinches them closed. Their hips and elbows bump standing side-by-side there at the the counter, and Cassandra doesn’t know if it’s intentional or just the consequence of sharing so small a space.

“Not to speak too soon, but I think we’ve done it,” Jane swings around to show her the neat little parcels lined up on their sheet. She is smiling, proud, all joy and light. She turns and places it in the oven, and Cassandra seizes the moment when she faces her again.

It’s all angles and strategy; Cassandra’s hand grips her forearm to pull her in, the other coming to rest on her waist, and Jane does the rest, clinging to the collar of her shirt as their foreheads touch. Cassandra cranes her neck downward and Jane strews arms around her neck, and - _throw me over your shoulder and go wherever you want._

Bracing herself, Cassandra dips to grip her waist and the back of her thighs, lifts her onto the counter easily. Jane gasps, perhaps about to say something, but Cassandra covers her mouth with hers, a hint of sugar on her lips as she sighs and kisses her back.

Now it earnestly feels like they’ll be banned from the kitchen at any moment, but Cassandra’s hands are tangled in her hair, and Jane wraps legs around her waist, and at this moment she wouldn’t mind fleeing like a couple of teenagers.

“Remind me in fifteen minutes to check the oven,” Jane murmurs hurried between kisses.

Cassandra says, “I think I can do that,” and pulls her in again.


End file.
